Dan Olinger

"If the Bible is true, then none of our fears are legitimate, none of our frustrations are permanent, and none of our opposition is significant."

Dan Olinger

 

Retired Bible Professor,

Bob Jones University

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Even Though, Part 1: Getting Started

October 13, 2022 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

What do you do when you see evidence around you that God is not who or what he says he is?

This is not a hypothetical question. There is much not to like about the world we live in—and I’m a happier, more optimistic guy than a lot of people I interact with. Plenty of people are having a really rough time. If you talk to people who say they used to believe in God but don’t anymore, many of them will say that the reason they don’t believe is that they don’t see how a great and good God would allow the hurtful things they see all around them. And a disturbing percentage of them would say that those hurtful things came to them from churches or individual Christians.

So what do you do?

I’ve found that the Bible, though it doesn’t give pat, easy answers, does handle hard questions well, if you read it accurately and thoughtfully. As I sometimes say to a person asking me about this problem, “It’s a big-boy question, and it calls for a big-boy answer; if you want a 2-minute answer, you’re going to be disappointed. You’re going to need to read some books.”

And the first book, of course, is the Bible. Accurately and thoughtfully, as I’ve said.

One of several good places to start in the Bible is Psalm 89. I’d like to take a few posts to consider what it says.

__________

Like many Psalms, this one has a superscription. There’s a debate about the value of those; traditionally scholars have viewed them as later editorial additions to the Psalms, but there’s been discussion recently that suggests they might be part of the inspired text.

Whether they are or not, there’s certainly no harm in learning what we can from them.

This superscription says that the Psalm is a “Maskil,” or teaching Psalm. It’s intended to be didactic, to improve our understanding of its topic.

Well, we could all use some of that.

It says further that it’s by “Ethan the Ezrahite.” Some commentators say that the term should be “Zerahite,” which would make this Ethan the same as the one named in the long genealogy in 1 Chronicles (1Ch 2.6, 8). Maybe, maybe not. We know there was a Temple musician named Ethan (1Ch 15.17, 19), but he doesn’t appear to have any ancestors named Ezra—if that’s what “Ezrahite” means.

This Ethan does appear in 1 Kings 4.31, alongside a Heman, whose name also appears as a Temple musician in the Chronicles passage. The point of this verse is that Solomon was wiser than either of them—so apparently they were considered eminently wise in their day. (By the way, this verse doesn’t mean that Solomon must have lived after Ethan; since Kings was probably written during the Babylonian Exile, its author could have compared Solomon with those who came after him.)

All this may be a bit off in the weeds, but I love this stuff. And it’s my blog. :-)

The first stanza of the Psalm serves as an introduction that sets the tone for all that follows. It opens with words familiar and nostalgic to those of a certain age; those of us who were in evangelical youth groups 50 or so years ago often sang a chorus based on the KJV of verse 1. (You know who you are; you have the tune in your head right now.)

The Psalmist declares his intent to praise God, and specifically to focus on his “mercies” (KJV; “lovingkindness” NASB; “steadfast love” ESV; “faithful love” CSB; “great love” NIV). This is the rich and complex Hebrew word hesed, which I’ve written on before. It’s a commitment to a loving relationship, no matter what.

God is faithful to his people—and to those who are not his people, although no one, in or out of the relationship, is faithful to him.

That’s worth praising.

Next time we’ll dig a little deeper.

Photo by Jeremy Perkins on Unsplash

Filed Under: Bible, Theology Tagged With: Old Testament, problem of evil, Psalms, systematic theology, theodicy, theology proper

The Myth of the Super Christian, Part 6: Pray. Hard.

October 10, 2022 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: No Such Thing | Part 2: Eternal Values | Part 3: Healthy Distrust of Self | Part 4: A Clear and Uncontested Goal | Part 5: All In. Every Day.

There’s one more element in Paul’s description of his spiritual walk that tells us volumes about his success as a believer.

In the last letter he wrote that’s been preserved, Paul is in prison in Rome. This is the second time for him. Last time, he was upbeat about his prospects—

  • In his letter to Philemon, likely written early in that 2-year imprisonment, he expects to prevail in his appeal to Caesar (Ac 25.10-11) and thus to be released; he tells Philemon to prepare him a place to stay when he comes to visit (Phm 1.22).
  • When he writes to the Philippians, likely toward the end of the imprisonment, he still expects to visit the church there in Philippi (Php 1.25; 2.24).

But this time is different. Rather than being under house arrest in rented, and relatively comfortable, residential quarters (Ac 28.30), Paul is now in a prison—traditionally the Mamartine prison, a dungeon—and is clearly not expecting to be released (2Ti 4.6-8). He is largely alone (2Ti 4.9-11) and in need of supplies (2Ti 4.13). He is settling his affairs (2Ti 4.14-15).

But he is not discouraged or depressed. He expects the Lord’s work on his behalf (2Ti 4.18) and eventual eternal reward, in the Lord’s timing (2Ti 4.8).

Victorious to the end, regardless of the challenging circumstances.

And in this context, in this epistle, in these circumstances, we find one more clue.

I thank God, whom I serve from my forefathers with pure conscience, that without ceasing I have remembrance of thee in my prayers night and day (2Ti 1.3).

He prays.

He communes with his Father, drawing spiritual strength to thrive in all those challenging circumstances, ones that would very likely do us in.

He’s really serious about this; he prays “without ceasing … night and day.”

I’d have trouble with that—especially the night part. In those times, I fall asleep.

I’m not the only one—right?

And I note something further here, something that sheds more light on his outlook.

He doesn’t speak of praying for himself; he asks others to do that (Co 4.3; 1Th 5.25; 2Th 3.1). He prays for others, for Timothy, his “dearly beloved son” in the faith (2Ti 1.2). Even in extremity, his thoughts, his concerns, are for others.

He follows his Lord’s example in this. Jesus prayed for long sessions (Mt 14.23), sometimes all night (Lk 6.12); and in his greatest extremity, he prayed for others, for those who believed in him (Jn 17.6-26).

This kind of prayer is hard work, both because it is lengthy and because it is on behalf of others. Paul describes such prayer—in this case the prayer offered by his coworker Epaphras—as “labor”—

Epaphras, who is one of you, a servant of Christ, saluteth you, always labouring fervently for you in prayers, that ye may stand perfect and complete in all the will of God (Co 4.12).

The Greek word rendered “laboring” here is agonizomai, which we all recognize as the etymological origin of our word agonize. It’s used of athletes in competition, on Game Day, who are leaving it all on the field (1Co 9.25). Specifically it’s used of boxers (1Ti 6.12, 2Ti 4.7). And more significantly, it’s used of soldiers (Jn 18.36), who are fighting for their lives.

We’re not often called up to fight like that. And we don’t often pray like that.

Paul prayed “without ceasing … night and day.”

This was not formal prayer, grace before dinner, after which someone at the table asks, “Did we pray?” It’s constant, mindful, effortful communication with God.

The Christian life is not easy for anyone; there are no “naturally gifted athletes” in the Christian race. It means rejecting your natural self and renewing the battle every day. It means staying in constant communication with “headquarters.” It’s a tough battle.

There are no Super Christians. There are just people who fight the battle every day.

Re-enlist.

Photo by James on Unsplash

Filed Under: Theology Tagged With: sanctification, soteriology, systematic theology

The Myth of the Super Christian, Part 5: All In. Every Day.

October 6, 2022 by Dan Olinger 1 Comment

Part 1: No Such Thing | Part 2: Eternal Values | Part 3: Healthy Distrust of Self | Part 4: A Clear and Uncontested Goal

There’s another element in Paul’s spiritual life that we non-super Christians should seek to emulate.

Paul was into his relationship with Christ for the long haul, and he knew that reaching the end of that road meant staying on it every day, every mile.

He was all in.

That shouldn’t surprise us. Jesus made it clear that following him is no casual commitment. After he had fed the 5000 men and their families—something that brought out of the woodwork a whole lot of uncommitted hangers-on (Jn 6.22-66)—Jesus warned his disciples that hard times were coming, including official rejection and even execution (Lk 9.22), things that were not for the faint of heart. It was at this moment that he told them,

If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross daily, and follow me (Lk 9.23).

Following Jesus means dying to self—that’s what “taking up a cross” means—and doing that every day. Commitment. Discipline. Reliability. Without fail.

This daily faithfulness is hard.

I teach an undergraduate systematic theology class that requires a lot of Bible memorization. I tell my students on the first day that I know they’re intimidated, but that pretty much anybody can do the memorization—but there’s only one way to do it, and cramming is not it.

Memorization requires Regular. Spaced. Repetition.

You go over the material every day. Doesn’t have to take long—just a few minutes—but it has to be every day. Over time, as you pull the material out of your brain at constant intervals, it becomes yours. In the end, it’s not really an intellectual or intelligence problem; it’s a character problem.

Every day.

When a student is doing significantly worse on his verse quizzes than the other material, I ask him to tell me how he’s studying for those quizzes. Are you doing what I told you on day one? Well, no, but I’m really busy.

Well, this is how cramming turns out. You have the time—just 5 minutes a day. But every day. It works.

Right now I’m memorizing lines for a play. I was hesitant to accept the role, frankly, because I’m 68, and the old brain ain’t what it used to be, and I’ve blanked out on stage before, and that’s a really unpleasant experience for me and all the other actors trying to work with me to present something intelligible and esthetically pleasing.

So I know I need to go over the lines. Every day. If I miss a day, I’ve set myself back more than just a day.

Thinking about that feeling of blanking out in front of an audience is a powerful incentive to be faithful.

Now, this play is a farce, and its long-term value is negligible.

How much more seriously should my students take the task of memorizing God’s Word in a way that will plant that theological database in their heads for the rest of their lives?

And how much more seriously even than that should Christ’s followers, all of them, take the daily task of taking up our cross and following him?

Jesus didn’t say this just once.

If any man come to me, and hate not his father, and mother, and wife, and children, and brethren, and sisters, yea, and his own life also, he cannot be my disciple. 27 And whosoever doth not bear his cross, and come after me, cannot be my disciple (Lk 14.26-27).

Whosoever he be of you that forsaketh not all that he hath, he cannot be my disciple (Lk 14.33).

No man, having put his hand to the plough, and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God (Lk 9.62).

Nor did Paul.

For which cause we faint not; but though our outward man perish, yet the inward [man] is renewed day by day (2Co 4.16).

I am crucified with Christ: nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me: and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself for me (Ga 2.20).

Reenter the battle. Every day. All in.

Follow Jesus.

Part 6: Pray. Hard.

Photo by James on Unsplash

Filed Under: Theology Tagged With: sanctification, soteriology, systematic theology

The Myth of the Super Christian, Part 4: A Clear and Uncontested Goal

October 3, 2022 by Dan Olinger 1 Comment

Part 1: No Such Thing | Part 2: Eternal Values | Part 3: Healthy Distrust of Self

We’ve seen two characteristics of the spiritual life of Paul, who was not a super Christian, that led to his spiritual success. As we read his personal reflections, we find another, one that shouldn’t surprise us: he was going somewhere, and he knew where that was.

In his brief autobiography in Philippians 3, we find that Paul had accomplishments that many people would be proud of:

  • He had observant Jewish parents, who had him circumcised on the 8th day after his birth, in accordance with the Mosaic Law (Php 3.5; cf Le 12.1-3). He was “an eighth-day one,” as the Greek literally says. He was no late-blooming proselyte with wasted early years. From his very birth, he was in a God-fearing home, with both parents cooperating for his spiritual benefit. He had the most auspicious of beginnings.
  • He was “of the stock of Israel” (Php 3.5)—no Gentile blood in him. His people were God’s chosen, the ones God held close to his heart.
  • He was of the tribe of Benjamin (Php 3.5). He knew his ancestry, all the way back to the patriarchs. And he was related to Israel’s first king, the tall one, the one God’s people had chosen from among all their people. Indeed, he was most likely named for him. During the civil war following the death of King David, Benjamin was the only tribe to join with Judah on Rehoboam’s side (2Ch 11.1). He had an enviable pedigree.
  • He was “a Hebrew of the Hebrews” (Php 3.5). Commentators suggest a couple of things that this phrase might mean:
    • He was not a Hellenist, one open to the customs of the Greek culture that surrounded Israel; he was no compromiser. (I’m not inclined to this view; Paul seems familiar with Hellenistic thinking in his writing.)
    • He was able to read the Hebrew Scriptures in the original Hebrew—without vowels, which meant essentially memorizing the text—and to speak the related language of Aramaic; he didn’t need to read it in the Greek of the Septuagint. He had access to all the sources available, including the original Hebrew words of God himself.
  • He was a Pharisee (Php 3.5), the strictest of the Jewish sects, absolutely devoted to the keeping of the Law in the minutest detail. The Pharisees even tithed their herbs (Mt 23.23; Lk 11.42). No one was more pious than Saul and his friends. Indeed he was so zealous a Pharisee that he set out to arrest and kill the followers of the lunatic heretic Jesus, who had been executed as a criminal.
  • He was, by his own testimony, blameless before the Law (Php 3.6). That’s an astonishing claim; it had to involve endless washings, endless sacrifices, endless arduous journeys from Tarsus to Jerusalem, endless climbing to the Temple Mount to present his offering to the priest whose course was on duty that month. He was focused like a laser on the endless picayune requirements.

And then, in blinding flash of heavenly light, he abandoned it all (Php 3.7). He viewed it as sewage, reeking of corruption (Php 3.8).

What could possibly cause that kind of turnaround? What would it take for you, or me, to toss aside our most cherished goals and accomplishments?

For Paul, it was a vision of Christ (Ac 9.1-9).

Decades later, writing to the Philippian church, he speaks of “the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord” (Php 3.8)—that’s the same sentence where he speaks of his former accomplishments as sewage. A sentence or two later he says, “That I may know him, and the power of his resurrection, and the fellowship of his sufferings, being made conformable unto his death” (Php 3.10).

Paul’s goal was to know Jesus. It drove everything else out of his mind and off his radar.

As he meditated on this idea, he realized that knowing Christ came with other infinitely valuable benefits—

  • Unity with Christ, being “in Him” (Php 3.9)
  • The righteousness that comes from God through faith (Php 3.9)
  • Having the kind of power that Christ displayed in his resurrection (Php 3.10)
  • Being like him (Php 3.10)
  • Being resurrected when the time comes (Php 3.11)
  • And the prize: the high calling of God in Christ Jesus (Php 3.14).

We live in a day when some of those who profess to follow Christ have much lower goals: personal recognition, or temporary political power, or rhetorical victory over those who disagree with them—who are, incidentally, the very people that their professed Master has sent them to reach.

What sewage.

We can know Christ.

Nothing else matters.

Part 5: All In. Every Day. | Part 6: Pray. Hard.

Photo by James on Unsplash

Filed Under: Theology Tagged With: sanctification, soteriology, systematic theology

The Myth of the Super Christian, Part 3: Healthy Distrust of Self

September 29, 2022 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: No Such Thing | Part 2: Eternal Values

So Paul begins his walk with God by reorienting his values away from those of the world—what we might call his culture—and toward things of eternal value, specifically the kingdom of God and his own calling to devote himself to it.

What’s next?

I began the previous post with a list of passages in which Paul confesses his own sinfulness. Bible students have often noted that these statements span almost the entire length of Paul’s ministry: 1 Corinthians is written relatively early during his traveling ministry, while Ephesians is written from prison, and 1 Timothy is written after his release from prison, during his later travels. The same students have noted that these statements seem to crescendo—that Paul’s estimation of himself early in his ministry (“I am the least of the apostles”) is less severe an indictment than his estimation years later (“I am chief of sinners”).

Paul began his ministry with a distrustful view of himself, informed by the kind of person he had been before he met Christ; and as he served, he seems to have grown increasingly distrustful of himself, despite the fact that the Spirit of God was working in him, through time, to conform him more and more to the image of Christ (2Co 3.18).

Someone has said that the closer the Christian comes to Christ, the more he is illuminated by Christ’s glory, and consequently the more easily and clearly he can see his own sins. If you think you’re doing pretty well, then you probably need to turn on the light.

I’m amused when I hear someone on the news say that their friend simply isn’t capable of whatever disgusting thing he’s been accused of. Of course it’s appropriate to consider evidence of a person’s good character and reputation when deciding whether an accusation is credible or not, but the fact is that under the right set of circumstances, pretty much anybody is capable of pretty much anything. I’ve found myself surprised—shocked—by my own reaction to various kinds of stress, and I suspect you have too. This human condition is the stuff of all sorts of literary plots. As the prophet Jeremiah observed more than 2500 years ago,

The heart [is] deceitful above all [things], and desperately wicked: who can know it? (Jer 17.9).

Paul was not self-focused; he didn’t spend his days beating himself up mentally for his failures and shortcomings. But he did have a healthy distrust of his own inclinations, and he saw to it that the circumstantial doors to those inclinations were kept closed.

If you think about it, this kind of healthy distrust is liberating. It destroys frustration, for we realize that any expectations we have of ourselves are overblown. We’re no longer puzzled by our failure.

And more importantly, we’re driven by this distrust to the things that lead to our prospering. When we stumble into sin, we seek forgiveness, cleansing, restoration, and empowerment from the One who loves to give it, thereby restoring and refreshing our relationship with a loving heavenly Father. And when we face ministry challenges, we don’t waste time trying to proceed on the strength of our own ability and wisdom; we take time to seek strength and wisdom from the Father, who pours it out abundantly, thereby delivering ourselves of the wasted time and effort that would yield, at best, only mediocrity.

Paul describes times in his life when he was under the burden of his own mediocrity. He tells the Corinthian church of a time during his ministry that “we were pressed out of measure, above strength, insomuch that we despaired even of life” (2Co 1.8). His response? “But we had the sentence of death in ourselves, that we should not trust in ourselves, but in God which raiseth the dead” (2Co 1.9). Another time he pleaded with God to remove a “thorn in the flesh” from him, and heard Jesus say, “My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness” (2Co 12.9).

We’re broken and unreliable. We don’t solve that problem by patting ourselves on the back and repeating positive affirmations about how good and strong we are. We solve it by recognizing the truth and then going to the One who is unbroken and infinitely reliable, relying on his wisdom, strength, and grace to bring us through to ministry success.

Part 4: A Clear and Uncontested Goal | Part 5: All In. Every Day. | Part 6: Pray. Hard.

Photo by James on Unsplash

Filed Under: Theology Tagged With: sanctification, soteriology

The Myth of the Super Christian, Part 2: Eternal Values

September 26, 2022 by Dan Olinger 1 Comment

Part 1: No Such Thing

Paul was no super Christian; that’s obvious from his descriptions of himself:

For I am the least of the apostles, that am not [fit] to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the church of God (1Co 15.9).

O wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death? (Ro 7.24).

[I am] less than the least of all saints (Ep 3.8).

Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners; of whom I am chief (1Ti 1.15).

But throughout his epistles he scatters observations about his heart, his thinking, and his spiritual life—observations that help us understand how a person with a sinful nature can be as successful spiritually as he was. It’s worth taking a few posts to thumb through them and consider how they might help us even as they helped him.

I think it makes sense to begin with Paul’s autobiographical words in Philippians 3. He describes his spiritual condition before he met Jesus on the road to Damascus, and the picture is complicated. There’s a veneer of accomplishment and respectability, but there’s emptiness and corruption at the very core:

5 Circumcised the eighth day, of the stock of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, an Hebrew of the Hebrews; as touching the law, a Pharisee; 6 Concerning zeal, persecuting the church; [as to] the righteousness which is in the law, blameless (Php 3.5-6).

By ordinary standards—and by that I mean according to the values of the average joe—Paul was highly successful. He was a local boy with a pedigree and respectable parents, who had followed the local customs at his birth, doing everything the right way. And as a young man he had excelled in his keeping of the Jewish traditions and Law, to the point where as an adult he was a member of an exclusive boys’ club, highly respected in the community.

He had it made.

But in the middle of that we find a problem: he was a persecutor of God’s people. Now according to the standards of the day, this only increased his respectability: he was so devoted to God that he set out to eradicate heretics, those who believed that the One True God had a Son, who had become man and—what absurdity!—actually died as a criminal.

These are people who ought to be persecuted.

But then, as we all know, Paul (Saul) met Jesus. Or rather, Jesus confronted him, identified himself with the very people he was persecuting, in the process both blinding him with his glory and opening his spiritual eyes to see Truth as the corrective to his twisted tradition.

Saul spent several days in physical darkness, with nothing to do but to think—to think about all the ways he had been wrong, about how everything he thought he knew was entirely backwards from the way things actually were.

A worldview upheaval.

And when Saul emerged from his darkness, he was a new man, with new values.

All those accomplishments? All that respectability?

“Those I counted loss,” he writes, “for Christ.” Indeed, “I count all things but loss for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord: for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and do count them but dung, that I may win Christ” (Php 3.8).

“Dung” is the King James word. It means what it says. That’s how he thought of the culture’s values, its standards, its respect.

Waste.

Flush it.

In short, he got his priorities straight.

Like Moses, he reckoned the things this world values most deeply as essentially worthless, transitory, trivial.

He stopped devoting time to such things—which freed up a whole lot of time to devote to things of eternal worth, things like worship and ministry and mission and evangelism.

Like us, he didn’t stop sinning. But like Paul, we can excel at the things we devote ourselves to. And if we devote ourselves to the right things, we can make a difference and enjoy victory, even though we’re not super.

Part 3: Healthy Distrust of Self | Part 4: A Clear and Uncontested Goal | Part 5: All In. Every Day. | Part 6: Pray. Hard.

Photo by James on Unsplash

Filed Under: Theology Tagged With: sanctification, soteriology, systematic theology

The Myth of the Super Christian, Part 1: No Such Thing

September 22, 2022 by Dan Olinger 1 Comment

Most of us think that other Christians are having a better go of it than we are. We think that we are alone in our secret temptations—that other Christians don’t find the same difficulty resisting temptation that we do. In particular, we hold a few people in particularly high esteem; we think that they enjoy consistent and daily victory and fellowship with Christ at a level higher than we’re able to maintain.

Maybe it’s a pastor or youth pastor, or a teacher, or a coach. I thought of someone that way (he’s now with the Lord), and some years later he and I were members of the same church. Working more closely with him, I never found that he had feet of clay, but I also came to realize that if he had known that I thought of him as a “super Christian,” he’d have laughed incredulously.

Some theological positions promote the idea of super Christians. The holiness movement, for example, posits a “second blessing” in which the old nature is eradicated. Wesleyans prefer to call this concept “entire sanctification.” Charles Wesley was thinking of this when he wrote,

Love divine, all loves excelling, joy of heav’n, to earth come down;
Fix in us thy humble dwelling; all thy faithful mercies crown.
Jesus, thou art all compassion; pure, unbounded love thou art.
Visit us with thy salvation; enter ev’ry trembling heart.

Breathe, O breathe thy loving Spirit into ev’ry troubled breast.
Let us all in thee inherit; let us find the second rest.
Take away our bent to sinning; Alpha and Omega be.
End of faith, as its beginning, set our hearts at liberty.

Come, Almighty, to deliver; let us all thy life receive.
Suddenly return, and never, nevermore thy temples leave.
Thee we would be always blessing, serve thee as thy hosts above,
Pray, and praise thee without ceasing, glory in thy perfect love.

Finish, then, thy new creation; pure and spotless let us be.
Let us see thy great salvation perfectly restored in thee.
Changed from glory into glory, till in heav’n we take our place,
till we cast our crowns before thee, lost in wonder, love and praise.

Interestingly, John Wesley never believed that he had attained “that second rest,” though he did think that a younger friend, John Fletcher, had. I’m not aware of any historical record of Fletcher telling anyone what he thought about that.

In Scripture, however, you don’t find that God’s people have experienced this. There are only two significant people in Scripture of whom God records no evil (Samuel and Daniel)—yet we know that they were sinners, for all of Adam’s descendants are (but One). And the greatest of God’s leaders, we find, had great struggles with their own sinfulness. Moses, for example, was kept from the promised land for disobedience. David lost his family and his kingdom because of his sexual sin. And even Paul recorded the darkness of his own heart:

18 For I know that nothing good dwells in me, that is, in my flesh. For I have the desire to do what is right, but not the ability to carry it out. 19 For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I keep on doing. 20 Now if I do what I do not want, it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells within me. 21 So I find it to be a law that when I want to do right, evil lies close at hand. 22 For I delight in the law of God, in my inner being, 23 but I see in my members another law waging war against the law of my mind and making me captive to the law of sin that dwells in my members. 24 Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death? (Ro 7).

There are no super Christians. There are only wicked people who, by the grace of God, are regenerated through faith and then find and fulfill God’s plan for them. Interestingly, the Bible tells us enough about Paul’s spiritual life that we can learn how he did it, however imperfectly.

To be continued.

Part 2: Eternal Values | Part 3: Healthy Distrust of Self | Part 4: A Clear and Uncontested Goal | Part 5: All In. Every Day. | Part 6: Pray. Hard.

Photo by James on Unsplash

Filed Under: Theology Tagged With: sanctification, soteriology, systematic theology

Worthy, Part 2: Utter Satisfaction, Utter Joy

September 19, 2022 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1

And then we turn the page, to the New Testament. And in its first words, we meet “Jesus Christ, the Son of David, the Son of Abraham.” And before the end of the first chapter we learn that He is more than that: He is the Son of God as well. God is again stepping into the world he created, this time to fill our cravings. 

In the next few pages we learn that Jesus, the Christ, is someone we already know: He is the Son, who in the beginning was face to face with the Father, who made all things, who had tenderly breathed life into His very first image, which He had formed with His own hands. Now these hands touch the sick and heal them; they touch the eyes of the blind and give sight; they touch a few loaves and fish and feed thousands; they touch the dead and bring them back to life. Why should we be surprised? Our first life was from Him, and it is nothing to him to give life again. 

All the while His eyes are fixed on His larger purpose in becoming one of us. He sets His face like flint; He goes to Jerusalem; He leaves His hands at His side as evil men slap and strike Him, and then He extends those hands to receive the nails that will pin Him, with the wicked, to a cross long enough for His blood to be shed, so that He can freely deliver His own spirit back to the Father. 

It is finished. But it is not over. 

The Son, who created the first human life, recalls His own, steps forth from His tomb, with the rich, as victor over both sin and death, and returns to His place beside the Father. 

And He continues to speak, through men He has carefully selected while He walked among us. They begin to explain what it all means, and in their writings we learn that, as we have begun to suspect, Jesus, the Christ, is the Prophet, the Priest, and the King, all in one. And He is not disappointing, because He is not broken like Adam’s other descendants. He is the answer to our cravings, cravings that God Himself evoked in us by giving us the Tanakh. 

He is our High Priest, perfect mediator of a perfect sacrifice, offered once forever for the sins of all who will come to Him for free forgiveness. 

He is our Prophet, the Word become flesh, through Whom we see clearly the Father’s glory, so that if we have seen Him, we have seen the Father. 

He is our King, the Son of David, the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the One to whom Judah’s scepter belongs, whose kingdom shall have no end. 

He is the Lamb of God, slain from before the foundation of the world. God’s plan has come to fulfillment perfectly, with no missteps, no mistakes, no frustrations, no setbacks. 

_____

“Worthy are you, our Lord and God, to receive glory and honor and power, for you created all things, and by your will they existed and were created” (Re 4.11). 

“Worthy are you to take the scroll and to open its seals, for you were slain, and by your blood you ransomed people for God from every tribe and language and people and nation, and you have made them a kingdom and priests to our God, and they shall reign on the earth” (Re 5.9-10). 

“Worthy is the Lamb who was slain, to receive power and wealth and wisdom and might and honor and glory and blessing!” (Re 5.12). 

“To him who sits on the throne and to the Lamb be blessing and honor and glory and might forever and ever!” (Re 5.13b). 

“Amen!” (Re 5.14b). 

Photo by Greg Rakozy on Unsplash

Filed Under: Theology, Worship

Worthy, Part 1: Nothing, a Donkey, and an Unsatisfied Craving

September 15, 2022 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Once there was nothing. 

No time. No now, no then. No was, no will be. No yesterday, no tomorrow. 

No space. No length, no width, no height. No up, no down, no left, no right. 

No light; but no darkness either.  

Nothing. 

But there was someone. Or someones, depending on how you count. There were three persons—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—in perfect harmony and at perfect peace, as One God. They—He—were/was not lonely; they—He—needed nothing.  

There was God. 

And there was all that God is. There was holiness; there was truth; there was goodness; and there was love. 

For His own reasons—which are all the reasons there were—God created the heavens and the earth. And the earth was unformed and unfilled, and covered with a new thing called darkness. And the Spirit, like a mother hen, nestled over the dark surface of the earth, covering, embracing, enfolding. 

And then, following the Father’s plan, the Son spoke. 

“Let there be light.” 

And there was light. 

And over the next six days—there were days, and thus time, because there was light—the Son spoke again, and again. And every time He spoke, His words—His commandments—came to pass. The earth, unformed, began to take form. And the earth, unfilled, began to be filled, with life. 

And on the sixth day, the Son stopped speaking. He arose from His chair, so to speak, and He stepped into what He had spoken into existence. He knelt in the red clay outside Eden, and with His hands, he began to work. 

This time, unlike the other times, He was taking some time. His hands moved skillfully, purposefully, perfectly; and soon there was, lying on the ground in front of Him, the very image of Himself: a body just like the one He had temporarily assumed. Except—it was red, but not yet pink; it was lifeless. Still kneeling, the Son crouched over the lifeless body, placed His mouth on its ashen mouth, and breathed into it. 

And man became a living soul. Adam—“Red”—pinked up. The image of God lived. 

And then, something even more remarkable happened. The Son—God Himself—spoke to His image. He began to tell him things, about who He was, about what He liked and didn’t like. He offered Adam a chance to know Him. From the very beginning, God wanted to talk to His creature. 

Then the Son fashioned a wife for Adam, also in God’s image, but different from Adam in ways that made him better, more complete. And He told her about Himself too. He offered them both Himself. 

We all know what happened next. After Eve was deceived, Adam knowingly rejected God’s offer of fellowship and plunged all that God had made into chaos and death. And though God expelled them from the Garden, He kept talking to them and to their descendants. 

He spoke in an audible voice. He spoke in dreams and visions. He spoke through dew on a fleece, and through a bush that burned but wouldn’t burn up. Once he even spoke through a donkey. 

And along the way, even though He was communicating already in all these ways, He went even further. He began to see that the things He spoke were written down, so that more people could read His words than heard Him speak them. 

And the story He told had a single theme, in three parts. In the first part, called the Torah, God gave His people priests and sacrifices to wash away their sin and bring them back into fellowship with Him. But the sacrifices had to be made every day, twice a day. And there were other sacrifices: sin offerings, guilt offerings, trespass offerings, peace offerings, heave offerings, wave offerings. Why wasn’t there a priest who could offer a complete sacrifice—who could get the job done, and wash away our sins once forever? 

In the second part, called the Prophets, God spoke to His people through special spokesmen. There were many of them, and they spoke faithfully. But they, too, had a problem: sometimes they couldn’t understand their own messages, and sometimes they couldn’t describe what they saw in words that made sense to us. They spoke of wheels within wheels, and of a man who made his grave with both the wicked and the rich; they spoke of little horns and abominations of desolation, and it was often deeply confusing. Why wasn’t there a prophet who could speak clearly—who could tell us, in words we could understand, what God is like, and what He wants from us? 

In the third part, called the Writings, God gave His people kings to fight their battles for them. The first king was tall and handsome, and everyone liked him. But he was a real disappointment. So God picked a king for them, a young man with a soldier’s skill and courage and a musician’s tender heart. And for much of his reign he was joyously good; but in the end he fell into sin and descended his family into the same kinds of chaos that Adam had brought on us all from the beginning. The next king, his son Solomon, began well, but by the end of his life he was worshipping idols even after he had built a magnificent temple for the true God. And then the kingdom split, and while a few kings glimmered with hope and light, most of them just descended deeper and deeper into darkness. Why wasn’t there a king who could rule us well—who wouldn’t disappoint us? 

And so God’s Word to Israel, the Tanakh, ends, leaving us craving what we need from God, but unsatisfied. We need a priest. We need a prophet. We need a king. Even just one of them would be a blessing. 

The story continues next time.

Part 2: Utter Satisfaction, Utter Joy

Photo by Greg Rakozy on Unsplash

Filed Under: Theology, Worship Tagged With: creation, providence

Church Has a Purpose, Part 5: The Short Range: Truth 

September 12, 2022 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: And It’s No Secret | Part 2: The Long Range | Part 3: The Short Range: Consistency | Part 4: The Short Range: Discernment

The first thing Paul tells the church to do in the short term, in order to reach maturity in Christ in the long term, is to stop being like a child in his inconsistency and naivete. The second thing comes in the first part of verse 15:

But speaking the truth in love …

Now, the Greek here is interesting. There’s no verbal “speaking”; the verb is rather simply the verbal form of the noun “truth.” We might translate it (woodenly) as “truthing.” “Speaking the truth” is not a bad translation—that’s ordinarily how one puts truth into action—but the word has a broader reference. We should be the truth; we should live the truth. We should be true to who (and whose) and what we are.

We should be true.

This in contrast to the childlikeness that Paul has just used to illustrate his point. Children are easily deceived; we shouldn’t be. Why is that? Because we know the truth; it governs our thinking and consequently our decisions and our actions.

We know that quarters don’t come out of our ears. We know that no one can know—without some kind of mischief—that we’re thinking of a grey elephant from Denmark.

And similarly, we know that discounting the value of the Scripture, or of the person or work of Christ, or of the legitimate unity of God’s people, does not come from those who are interested in God’s cause or our good.

We didn’t just fall off the turnip truck. This isn’t our first rodeo. We know better.

And why do we know better?

Because we know the Scripture, because we have pored over it and immersed our thoughts in it and rolled its truths over repeatedly in our minds, for the decades since he gave us spiritual life. And because we know Christ, both by that time and effort in the Scripture and by our daily walk and communion with him over those same decades.

I’ve been married for over 38 years. Each year I learn more about my wife, both because I’m a slow learner and because she has grown and changed since we began our life together. And now, approaching 4 decades of daily interaction, I know a lot about her. Because of that knowledge I don’t wonder what she’s going to think about this or that, or how she’s going to react to a given situation, or whether she’s likely to do something inappropriate.

I know her. And that answers a lot of questions even as it calms—or dismisses—a lot of potential fears.

If somebody tells me something about her that isn’t true, I’m pretty sure I’m not going to believe it.

Because I know her.

Now, I’ve known the Father, the Son, and the Spirit almost twice as long as I’ve known my wife. Shame on me if I fall for some lie about him, or some distortion of his motives or his ways. Shame on me if I start to believe that he isn’t good, or that his inaction demonstrates his inattention or his apathy.

And shame on us, his church, his people, if we find ourselves distracted by relatively trivial, temporary causes, or divided by temporary social or political issues, hating one another because of our support for this or that candidate or plebiscite or ballot initiative, or the color of our hats.

We need to see things as they are from the perspective of the one who lives forever and who has been working his great and gracious plan from before the world was.

We need to give our energies to that eternal plan.

We need to grow up.

Photo by Nagesh Badu on Unsplash

Filed Under: Bible, Theology Tagged With: church, Ephesians, New Testament, systematic theology

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